Curtain
by lrhaboggle
Summary: When one of the Sacred Soundstage's curtains tears, it's up to Cora to fix it and she just might end up with a promotion in the process.


Cora Stein stood proudly beside her fellow applicants. Today, they were becoming full angels of Heaven. Cora felt her heart pound as she took her new, numbered badge. It was a strip of bright gold cloth and, stitched upon it, was a blood-red seven. As she removed her applicant badge in favor of the new one and received her new uniform, just a hint of grief flickered through Cora's mind. There was one applicant who had begun training with them but hadn't finished. June Freeman. She was Cora's best friend until her rebellious ways got her exiled to Hell. Cora was there that dark and fateful night and even now, though it had been several months, she still had nightmares about it sometimes. June should've been here with the others, getting her number too… But she wasn't and nothing would change that! Cora shook her head roughly and forced herself to smile again. She couldn't let anybody know she still missed June. And now, as a full angel of Heaven, she had a lot more responsibility. She couldn't afford to be the same girl she once was.

A month later, Cora lost the other girls from her applicant training as well. They weren't sent to Hell, or anything, Cora just didn't see them as often as she used to. They were a lot busier now and there were so many working horses that sometimes it got hard to tell who was who. To be fair, though, Cora never made too much of an effort to meet any of them. Nobody on either side of this minded much and, in general, Cora did like everyone she worked with. Well, almost everyone. The one person Cora hated was the man in charge of their troop. The Designer. He was still just as rude, snobby, and sexual as Cora remembered from when she met him on her first day in Heaven. She tried not to wince as he dragged his long, glamorous cape along her leg. She did her best to ignore his advances and she continued her endless sewing of uniforms and costumes.

In time, Designer gave Cora a special job.

"The curtain of the Sacred Soundstage has several wear and tears and I am assigning you with the task of fixing it," he told Cora. "Do not disappoint me," he added sternly before brushing past her with a dramatic wave of his cape. Cora shivered once again and was glad for the excuse to leave level seven even if only for a little while. Come to think of it, this was probably the first time she would've been on a floor other than level seven since the day of the applicant graduations. The young working horse took a kit of tools and rode the elevator to level four.

"Hello there!" a friendly face and a kind voice greeted Cora the moment left the elevator. It was the Publicist. He waved her on in with excitement, chattering eagerly with her although nothing he saw was of too much importance. Cora had to admit, though, despite the everlasting funeral that had been marching on in her heart, Publicist's spunky, sparky, happy-go-lucky attitude did kind of cheer her up. He just seemed so genuine and sweet and innocent that it reminded Cora that there was still some good in the world. Not everyone was a snake.

"Hello sir," she replied as the pair walked over to the soundstage together.

"Are you here to fix the curtain?" he asked.

"Yes sir," Cora repeated. She curtseyed slightly, as was protocol when facing somebody in higher rank.

"Excellent!" he clapped her warmly on the back and led her to the long ruby-red cloth. "Here you are dear!" he said as she knelt beside the holes. "As you can see, there are a few threads loose here and some small holes a bit lower down. What we really noticed, however, was this big ugly hole right here," he paused to point at one particular spot on the curtain. The hole really wasn't that big, only being the size of a finger, but Cora knew that in God's eyes, such an imperfection was an abomination and an offense to the highest degree.

"Don't worry. This will be an easy fix," Cora muttered as she inspected all the other little tears and frayed threads.

"That's a relief to hear!" Publicist exclaimed. "Now tell me, what is your name, young miss?" he asked.

"Cora Stein," Cora answered.

"Ah! What a lovely name!" Publicist said. Cora couldn't help but look away shyly. Publicist seemed to see that he was making the girl a bit giggly so he took a step back while Cora continued to kneel beside the curtain. "Well, Cora, if you need anything, just ask!" he said, then he left Cora to do her thing while he went over into the next room, a rehearsal room, and tuned his songbirds.

After Publicist had gone, Cora turned to face the door through which he'd exited and she smiled just a little. He really was such an adorable fellow and Cora genuinely liked him. But after offering that small smile to the absent man, Cora turned back to the red curtain and pulled out her sewing kit. The holes may not have been large or many, but it would still take time and devotion to see that the curtain was fixed perfectly.

For the next hour, while Publicist rehearsed his singers and musicians in the next room over, Cora sat beside the curtain, sewing it up with great care. She knew every last thread was under her jurisdiction and any mistake would reflect very poorly upon her. Initially, she'd begun the task fretfully. It didn't matter how good or talented a worker she was, she still had a fear of slipping up. As time passed, however, Cora got lost in the music being played around her and though she was still fixing the curtain, her stress slid away until she found herself sewing to the beat. _Loop, pull, stitch, loop, pull, stitch, loop_ _pull, stitch._

Even after Cora finished the curtain until nobody could even tell there had been a hole, Cora remained hidden in the corner, ear pressed almost against the wall as she listened to the music. She'd been there so long she began to pick up the melody and found herself singing along, absorbing every word Publicist said as though she was one of his birds of song as well. She was so entranced with the music and so bent upon learning at that she didn't even notice when several of Publicist's musicians passed by the soundstage in order to get to another room over. When they saw her listening in on the lesson, they covered their mouths in horror and reported her at once.

"She was singing along?" Publicist repeated as his musicians came back.

"Aye, sir! We saw her! Just sittin' there and leanin' against the wall!" they nodded back.

"Hmmm," Publicist rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Give me a moment," he said. Then he turned back to his other singers. "Just sing your warm-ups a few times, I'm going to see how well you project by walking out into the hallway!" he announced. The singers obeyed with question and the moment they began singing, he got up and exited the room to go see if what his other musicians had said was true. It was. Cora, eyes closed, was leaning against the wall and tapping a beat on her leg as her mouth moved along with the songs coming from the next room over.

"Cora!" Publicist called to the working horse. So surprised was she by the interruption that she literally jumped up from her seat.

"Sir?!" she squeaked, guilt clear in her voice.

"Will you come to the other room?" he asked, face revealing nothing. Cora's heart began to race with fear but she obediently followed the leader of the songbirds from the soundstage to the rehearsal room. She could only hope that her punishment for eavesdropping would be light. She still got her job done after all, the curtain was perfect!

Once Cora entered the rehearsal room, she found herself surrounded by a color cast of characters, each with a thin booklet of music in their hands. Publicist led Cora further into the room until she stood facing all of them. She swallowed and tried hard not to crack.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Cora!" the Publicist introduced.

"Hi Cora," the whole choir monotoned. Cora could only nod, voice no longer working.

"I've brought her here today to sing for you!" Publicist continued and Cora couldn't help the strangled cry that came from her throat then.

"What?!" she asked. The moment the question left her mouth, she regretted questioning the man and expected a rebuke, but none came. Instead, Publicist only smiled serenely and patted Cora's back.

"I noticed you singing there in the corner," he said. Cora bowed her head guiltily. "Now I was wonder if you'd sing for us," Cora's head shot up. "Your voice was so very good, after all!" Publicist continued and Cora's jaw hung open. "Now please, sing for us."

"Well, uhhh, what do you want to hear?" the brunette asked, voice and body shaking.

"Oh, anything!" Publicist waved dismissively. "Take your pick! This is just to see what you can do, after all."

"Ok then," Cora was still a little unsure about this, but after a moment of deciding, she took a deep breath and began to sing. Ultimately, she went with the age old Alleluia and though it was a very short and cliché audition, it won everybody in the room over.

"Wonderful!" Publicist cried above the applause as Cora curtseyed shyly, trying to smooth her hair and dress. She hadn't expected such a positive response but here she was, being congratulated by every singer in the room for her little piece.

"Thank you, sir," she replied gratefully. Then a thought struck her. She knew it was wrong of her to request anything of him because he was so far higher up in Heaven than she was, but she couldn't help it. It was a request she wanted to place desperately and he seemed so friendly that she wasn't afraid to ask him the question. What she wanted was to be a personal seamstress for him so that she could sit in on these wonderful music lessons more often. Of course, she didn't mean right now because she was still pretty inexperienced, but perhaps later in life.

She had been right in the middle of asking when a loud, irritated voice called out from the far side of the room. Cora jumped in fright and turned to see Designer glaring at her.

"Where have you been? You were supposed to report to me immediately after, not dilly dally!" he snapped as Cora began to apologize.

"Don't blame her!" Publicist interrupted, coming to Cora's aid and even stepping in front of her. It was a beautiful gesture nobody had made for her in a very long time. "I asked her to stay," the leader of the songbirds said. "She has carried out her orders faithfully and efficiently," he added, vouching for her. Cora thanked him silently and he nodded in reply.

"Hmmm, so be it," Designer huffed in reply, clearly mad that he wasn't able to use this transgression against Cora as it was, technically, Publicist's fault. "But she must report back now!" the man insisted. "We have more work to do!"

"Yes, sir!" Cora bowed quickly to Publicist before leaping from the stage and scurrying after Designer. Had she bothered to look back as she joined Designer on the elevator back to the sweat shop, she'd have seen Publicist looking thoughtfully after her.

 **AN: I'm in my school choir and, for some reason, our choir room has these two big red curtains in front of the white board. Apparently, at one point, one of those curtains got torn so the teacher called in some lady to come and fix them. For that whole day, she just sat there, sewing the curtains back up while our rehearsal carried on like normal. Get this, though, that lady was named Cora. I'm not kidding. The moment I heard her name, this fic popped into my head and this was meant to explain how Cora became a four. I don't know much about how Heaven promotes and demotes, but I like to think that everyone starts out as a seven and must earn their way up. So here, Cora and all her friends begin as working horses but this is the first time anyone considers that Cora might be better-suited for a higher rank.**


End file.
